


Trickster

by Fictionista654



Series: Merlin is a God [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Merlin, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Merlin's a god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: Mithian tells Arthur she thinks Merlin is a god. It's a joke, until it's not.





	Trickster

Merlin is pretty and red-lipped and smiling, and Arthur watches him over Princess Mithian’s shoulder. Merlin is holding a pitcher of wine, and his Adam’s apple is jerking as he laughs, because he his laughing, and his neckerchief is pulled low, and when he sees Arthur watching him, the smile slips off his face and he turns away. Arthur knows that Merlin is furious, that he thinks Arthur should have forgiven Gwen everything long ago. Merlin hates Mithian, and he’s been full of trickery the past few weeks of her visit. 

“Don’t be angry with him,” Mithian says to Arthur, following his gaze. They’re sitting at the high table, and Mithian’s silky hair is rippling down her back, and the candles are lighting her beautifully, and Arthur should want to kiss her. “Merlin just wants what’s best for you.”

“He’s mad at me,” Arthur confesses.“He thinks that I should be marrying another.”

“And how does he expect you to do that?” says Mithian, frowning. “It’s hardly possible.”

“Of course not, Mithian. I am promised to you.”

“But even if you weren’t, you can’t marry a man.”

Arthur stiffens. “I beg your pardon?”

“I—oh!” Mithian clasps her hands to her cheeks. Arthur suspects that in the daylight, he would be able to see her blush a pretty pink. “I thought you meant…you must know, surely, that Merlin feels for you.”

“I am not ashamed to admit that he is my friend,” says Arthur. But Mithian shakes her head.

“No, not like that. You don’t see the way he looks at you?”

Arthur surreptitiously steals another glance at Merlin. The serving girl Merlin was laughing with is gone, and Merlin is staring solemnly into the middle distance. His lips are working as if he is reciting something. “He isn’t looking at me right now,” Arthur says, turning back to Mithian.

Mithian tries to take a sip from her goblet, but the rim slips past her lips, and wine splashes down the front of her white gown. “Oh!” she says, accepting Arthur’s napkin. “I’m being very clumsy these days.” Thankfully, the accident ends their conversation, but Arthur is still thinking about it when Merlin undresses him for his bath.

“The princess Mithian had some interesting things to say,” Arthur announces. Merlin continues unlacing Arthur’s breeches.

“She did, did she?”

“She suggested that you’re jealous of her.”

Merlin’s hands slip, and his face jerks up to look at Arthur’s. His lips are parted, and his eyes are wide. “Is she joking? I’m supposed to be jealous of her front-row seat to your unbearable egotism?”

“Unfair,” Arthur says. “She’s the one who said it, not me. _I_ don’t think you’re in love with me.”

“Well, good,” says Merlin, though he sounds dissatisfied. He turns back to Arthur’s laces, and Arthur can’t help the fond smile that spreads across his face. He loves when Merlin is indignant. It’s rather adorable.

The next day, Mithian suggests a hunt. They leave Merlin behind, and their time together is all the more enjoyable for it. Whenever Merlin is there, Arthur can’t relax. He’s always looking around for him, making sure the idiot hasn’t gotten in any trouble. And for some reason, Arthur spills fewer things when Merlin isn’t around. He tells this to Mithian when they stop for water, and she laughs triumphantly.

“Arthur,” she says, “I’ve noticed the same thing. I think your manservant may be a trickster god.”

It takes Arthur several minutes to stop laughing. “Merlin?” he says at last. “A god?”

“It happens,” she insists. “Gods growing bored and coming to earth, making mischief and getting princes to fall in love with them.”

Arthur decides this is too much. “I’m not in love with Merlin!”

“I was only joking,” says Mithian, but the idea stays with Arthur. Both the ideas. Obviously, Merlin isn’t a god, but it’s amusing to think about. Clumsy Merlin, a bored deity! The first idea is amusing, too. Arthur could never, ever fall in love with Merlin. What a ridiculous notion!

The whole Mithian thing goes south in the end, what with Guinevere’s startling reappearance, and Arthur’s sudden uncertainty of what he’s supposed to do next. Once Mithian’s gone, he asks Guinevere if she’d still like to be his queen, and she says that she’d rather have her old forge back, if that would be all right with him. So she gets her forge, and Arthur gets nothing and no one.

“Mithian thought you were a god,” he tells Merlin one summer night. They’re lying on their backs in the middle of the practice field and staring up at the swirls of stars. 

“A god?” says Merlin drowsily. “What do you mean?”

Arthur rolls onto his side and watches Merlin watch the sky. “A trickster god or something. Because people are always getting into trouble around you.”

“Maybe I am a god,” says Merlin. “You don’t know.”

Arthur laughs. “Merlin, if you’re a god, you’re bloody terrible at it. Why would a god shine shoes and muck out stables?”

“I don’t know,” says Merlin seriously. “I’m not quite sure why I do. Maybe I should stop.”

“Be my guest,” says Arthur. But Merlin’s not a god, and he keeps his job. After that, it becomes a joke between them. Whenever Merlin doesn’t want to do a chore, he tells Arthur that he’s lucky Merlin isn’t in a smiting mood.

“Go on then,” Arthur will say. “I’d like to see you try.” 

After they have sex for the first time, Merlin cuddles against Arthur and presses his head to the junction between Arthur’s shoulder and neck. “You’ve pleased your god,” he murmurs, and Arthur says, “Watch it, Merlin. You act like I’m not the king,” and Merlin says, “No, no, I know you’re the king. But some powers are higher.”

“And you’re a power higher than the king?” says Arthur sardonically. Merlin nods, his hair tickling Arthur’s skin. 

“Don’t worry, though. I’ve decided I quite like you. I think I’ll keep you around.”

“I should fire you,” says Arthur.

And then Morgana attacks, and Merlin blasts her and her soldiers into oblivion, and Arthur realizes that Merlin might actually be a god. He stares across the Great Hall at Merlin, whose neckerchief is askew and whose lips are red with blood. “Arthur,” says Merlin, says the trickster god, says the being Arthur thought he knew. “Don’t be afraid.” The corpses are still smoking.

“What are you?” Arthur says, his sword steady in his hand. The two of them are the only living things in the room. 

“I’m Merlin,” says Merlin, lowing his hand from its spell casting position. “Your servant.”

“Servants can’t kill with their minds,” says Arthur. He is trying very hard not to let his voice tremble. “Servants can’t wield lightning. If you are a servant, it is because you pretend to be one. Mithian was right. You’re a god.” 

“No,” says Merlin, a little frantically. “Arthur, I’m _not_. I’m a sorcerer, I admit it, I’m a sorcerer, but I’m no god.”

“You lied to me,” says Arthur. “You convinced me you were someone you weren’t.” He presses the tip of the sword to Merlin’s throat. Merlin swallows. In this light, Merlin’s eyes are such a dark blue they are almost black. Arthur feels as though he could fall into them and never come out.

“It wasn’t a lie,” Merlin says finally. “Who I was. Am. I really am a clumsy idiot. And I’m not—I don’t think I’m a god. I might be. The dragon says I’m immortal.” 

“Oh, that’s what the dragon says?” says Arthur, a little hysterical. 

Merlin nods. “And I do have quite a lot of power. I’m sorry for lying.”

“You’re a god,” Arthur says again. He is having trouble internalizing this. He thinks he should be more angry, but there was always something off about Merlin. At least now he knows what it is. “You’re a god, and you choose to empty my chamberpots?”

“You could empty your own chamberpots from now on,” Merlin says. 

“Not likely,” says Arthur. Merlin starts to smile.

“Of course not, sire.”

“Don’t say that,” Arthur says helplessly. “Stop acting as if I’m your king, when we both know what you really are.” Merlin makes a distressed noise in the back of his throat and falls to his knees.

“Arthur,” he begs, “you _are_ my king. My powers, my godhead, they’re for you. Everything I am is for you.”

And Arthur can’t bear it, he can’t bear to see Merlin so distraught, and he falls to his knees, too. He presses his forehead to Merlin’s and takes his hands. “I’m furious,” he whispers, but he’s also a bit in love.


End file.
